Got a haircut today. Finally! What little I have left — after all the stress at work and the stress of the recent back pain — was getting pretty long and goofy-looking unless it was wet and slicked back. Anyway, I was sitting there in my chair getting my hair cut by the same middle aged woman who cut it last time. I had my head down as I usually do — because I'm tall and have a big head and the person cutting my hair is not always tall enough. Maybe that's not really necessary. I don't know, but I keep my head down, anyway. Always good advice.

Anyway, this guy comes through the door and is talking to the other hair cutter. I can't see him. He's getting real specific about what he wants done. He seems to know all the terminology. He's talking about using a #1 in back, and a #2 here, fading here, feathering here (I thought that went out with the 70's), and a couple other terms I've now forgotten. I'm thinking this guy is really into his hair. If I had hair, I might be into mine, too, so I wasn't really holding it against him. I had simply told my "stylist" to take a couple inches off the back and keep it short around the ear and keep it above the ear. I was initially given a choice of a #8 blade (or whatever) as their records showed I had done before, or scissors as I'd had the last time. I said last time was good, so she used scissors. If it was up to me, I'd just buy a "Flowbee" and cut my own hair, but Tara won't let me.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the guy with the terminology. So, I'm sitting there thinking he must have some really great hair. By the time I was finally pointed in his direction and I could lift my head to see him, I was shocked. The guy had no hair. Or, at least, there were no hairs more than a quarter inch long. He looked like Curly from the Three Stooges.

I just thought that was funny. Kind of an anti-climactic story, eh? Sorry. I'll try to do better.